


I Need You More Than Anyone

by FoxglovePrincess



Series: Tumblr Tales [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Childhood Friends, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxglovePrincess/pseuds/FoxglovePrincess
Summary: It’s just supposed to be a regular Saturday night at the bar. When Steve comes to pick you up, like he normally does, things don’t exactly end up the way you expect.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Tumblr Tales [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037124
Comments: 18
Kudos: 140





	I Need You More Than Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. This is a fic I’ve been working on for a couple weeks for my friend bonkywobble’s Halfway to 1K Challenge over on Tumblr. My prompt was A/B/O AU. I had a lot of fun writing this, though I will admit there was definitely some struggle. But I like where it ended up.
> 
> Tell what you think in the comments. If I’m missing any tags, let me know (I tried to get everything, but no one’s perfect).
> 
> UnBeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title taken from “Build Me Up Buttercup” by The Foundations.
> 
> This work is not to be reposted on any other site without my explicit permission.

The ice clinks in the glass, the sound lost in the crowd’s chatter and the music playing overhead. Twiddling with the mini straw, I swirl the liquid, first clockwise then counter-clockwise, searching for entertainment that I know I won’t find.

Glancing around the room, I squint through the low lighting. It’s never bright enough in the bar—though perhaps that’s just my eyes.

Darcy stands against the wall, fiddling with a man’s sweater and smirking up at his dazed expression. Her eyes flick over to me, sending a quick wink and turning back to her beau for the night.

Mild envy simmers in my gut as I turn back to the bar, wishing I had her effervescence. She sparkles in any room and attracts people to her—alphas, betas, omegas. It’s quite the impressive sight.

Most Saturdays I find myself in her company, a nice dinner at one of our favorite restaurants and hours spent at the local watering hole, searching for a ‘good time’ and a chance at something new. Because both of us know what we’re looking for—I’m looking for the right partner, she’s looking for her partner right now.

It suits her, being being in the proverbial spotlight and finding someone new, or not so new, to flirt with. She thrives in this environment.

Tonight, it’s Ian again—at least from what I can tell looking at the back of his head. I’m happy for her. They’re actually quite cute together and always seem to have fun.

On the other hand, I’ve never found anyone on these nights out—whether no one’s interested or I’m too much of a wallflower, it’s beyond my ken. But I don’t mind the atmosphere, the life and vitality thrumming through the bar. And I don’t hurt for company when Darcy wanders off, the staff welcoming and willing to look after me.

Staring at my drink, I smile to myself, shaking my head and casting a quick glance back over my shoulder to check on my friend. Though she never seems to need it.

I mean, she’s the omega that tased the knot-head captain of the debate team when he tried to corner me against the lockers in high school. ‘Omegas stick together’, she had said—and she’s stuck by me ever since.

Yeah, she can take care of herself just fine.

“Why do you come out at all?” a voice inquires. My eyes raise to the bartender, Loki, wiping at the bar top, brow quirked in question. “You don’t even like it.”

“It makes her happy,” I say with a shrug, sipping at my ginger ale. “Plus, I _do_ like it. The company’s great when it’s not being so snarky.”

I quirk my brow at the man accusingly, rump shifting on the barstool, looking for a comfortable position after sitting for so long.

He hums in return, placing down his rag and crossing his arms. “I’ve called your alpha.”

I choke, the carbonation burning in my throat until my eyes water. “Loki!” I screech, banging my hand on the wood of the bar. “I don’t _have_ an alpha.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Fine, I called _Steve_ , then.” I squawk, just as indignant, raising my finger to chew the alpha out for his glib statement, but he continues, “You’re obviously itching to leave and you know how Val is about omegas leaving the bar on their own.”

“I’m not even drinking,” I insist, gesturing to my glass of soda. “You’ve been serving me all night.”

“Yes, well. It’s _Val_ ,” Loki states, with a pointed look. “She intimidates me more than you.” He chuckles, green eyes shining in the low lights.

A scoff blows across my lips as I send a glare in his direction. “I hate you,” I pout, leaning back with my shoulders slumped.

“No you don’t, darling.” His smile spreads across his face, his forearms leaning on the counter.

“No, I don’t,” I admit, the words bitten out on petulant syllables. My hand runs over my face, a groan buzzing my lips. “You shouldn’t have called Steve, though. He’s in the middle of preparing for his latest exhibition. He gets so stressed, Loki. You shoulda called someone else.” My teeth worry over my lip, a wave of guilt washing over me.

The incredulous look Loki returns in my direction penetrates so deep I can sense the impending roll of his eyes. “Who would you suggest I call then?” he asks, sarcastically, gesturing at me for my answer with a sweep of his hand.

When no one comes to mind, I change the subject, asking, “Well, what about Darcy?”

“You know I always take care of her,” Loki reminds softly, shooting a fond glance over my shoulder in her direction. His brows knit together as he observes her for a lingering minute. “Though she seems to be finding some familiar company tonight.”

My head tilts, eying the alpha in sympathy. Before I can think of a way to reply, a warm hand lands on my shoulder.

The familiar weight distracts me, drawing my attention to the alpha behind me. Even in such a crowded bar, the notes of graphite and whiskey in his musky scent tickle my nose. I lean back, knowing he’ll support my weight, face scrunched in apology as I catch his eye.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” I groan pitifully, a pout sitting on my lower lip.

The lights of the bar illuminate his face, the room brightening slightly even as I wait for his remonstrance.

He just smiles, face full of understanding. “Sweetheart, you know you don’t need to apologize.” He turns to Loki with gratitude dripping from his scent. “Thanks for calling me, man.”

Loki nods, a knowing smirk on his lips. Catching the cheeky sparkle in his eyes, I lean forward again, landing my elbows on the bar, sticking my tongue out at the bartender in a childish gesture.

Steve’s hand moves to the back of my neck, gently squeezing at my nape. “Come on, omega,” he coaxes with an amused chuckle, “let’s get you home.”

My head immediately drops, eyelids fluttering, my whole skeleton turning into a pile of goo, for a second. My omega purrs with the quiet display of dominance, submitting easily. Steve releases me once my breathing calms to soft, deep inhales, the spark of my agitation effectively stifled. He grabs my purse, tucking it under his arm, hand finding the small of my back to guide me out.

“See you two next week,” Loki snipes playfully as we turn away.

And in seconds, that spark ignites once more, burning to life. With Steve’s hand on my back, I can’t turn back to make a final parting shot, but my lip contorts in an irritated snarl. Steve simply turns his head, shooting an unimpressed glance to our friend with a final wave and nudges me out of the bar.

The cool breeze greets us outside, the air crisp and fresh. Steve’s scent much more noticeable in the natural air. I sigh, drinking it in, and crane my neck to look at the stars. The vexation draining away as soon as the door closes behind us.

“Thanks for picking me up,” I murmur, head tilting to catch my friend’s gaze. “I’m sorry if you were working on art pieces for your newest show. I know how involved they can be.”

Steve waves a dismissive hand in the air, not even saying a word as his lips quirk in the corner. He gestures for me to walk.

“My truck is parked just down the road.”

I nod, acknowledging his remark, unmoving, basking in the night air. I can see the old blue truck less than ten feet away. But I’m not ready to jump into it quite yet.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, mild worry clinging to his words.

I hum, head bobbing as my eyes close for a brief moment. “It’s just so peaceful outside.”

He hums, a small sound of relief and acceptance, leaning his body against the façade of the building, waiting for me.

The quiet hush surrounds us, ambient noises of the night familiar—crickets, the hoot of an owl, the occasional crunch of gravel under tires, a muffled sound of music drifting on the breeze.

Steve breaks the tranquil moment, clearing his throat. My eyes loll in his direction, finding him under the fuzzy lamplight.

“How’s your week been?” he asks, starting up a conversation, checking in even though we text each other everyday.

Warmth encompasses me, despite the chilly air, a feeling of contentment radiating from within. A smalls smile pulls at my lips, happy with his thoughtfulness.

“Nothing that I haven’t already told you, really. Though Phil’s been a bit more stressed lately with the election coming up,” I admit, rubbing the built-up tension in my shoulders with one of my hands. “Not like he has any competition in our little town.”

“He’s treating you okay though, right?” Steve straightens in his spot as I step over to the wall and lean next to him.

“Yes,” I drone with a smile, rolling my eyes in faux exasperation. “He treats me the same as he always has. Part of me thinks he’s scared he’ll upset you if he doesn’t.” My hand covers my lips as snicker breaks through, Steve’s brow raising in surprise.

It’s no great secret that our mayor is quite proud to have such a prolific artist living in town. But if Steve knew to what extent Mayor Coulson idolized him, he’d be quite dumbfounded. To be fair, though, Steve seems to react that way when _anyone_ recognizes or admires his talent.

“What’re you working on right now?” I ask, dying to hear about his newest pieces, chomping at the bit for details.

“Just a sculpture,” he replies cryptically.

My face drops into a scowl, lips pursed and blowing a raspberry in his direction. He laughs in response, eyes shining with mirth. I sigh, disgruntled.

In all the years we’ve known each other, Steve’s always kept his works in progress so hush-hush, locked away like they’re national secrets. It’s a wonder I survive the time between his shows—though he always brings me into his studio for my own personal preview, watching my reaction to seeing the beauty he creates for the first time. A quiet, private moment between the two of us, just for us. More often than not I end up in tears, left speechless and moved by his artistic expression.

I’ve suspected for years that he stays so secretive just to rile me up, to get that reaction from me.

He evades any further questions by asking, “Did you hear Bucky, Nat, and Sam are moving back to town?”

“Really?!” I shriek at the news, bouncing on my toes and turning my body toward his. A wide smile pulls at the corners of my lips, spreading them toward my ears. At Steve’s confirming nod, a noise of excitement bursts from my throat. “Bucky’s coming back!” Hands clapping in front of my chest, my body wiggles with delight.

My hands grasp Steve’s wrist, pulling him with me as I spin in circles and drag him along, needing to expel my new burst of energy. He breathes deeply, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“My best friend is finally coming home,” I enthuse, swinging the alpha’s arm between us.

Steve scoffs indignantly, “Hey! I thought—”

“You _are_ my best friend, Steve,” I assure sincerely. “But Bucky and I—we’re both omegas. I can talk to him about _anything_ , you know?”

“You can always talk to me,” Steve insists, pulsing his grip on my arm until I look to him.

My wide smile shifts to something small and sweet, seeing the genuine affection in the alpha’s eyes. That warmth blossoms in my chest again, slow and tender.

“I know, Steve.” I wrap my arm around his, cuddling up to his side for a second before a train of thought sparks to life.

My hands gently shove him away as a gasp bursts past my lips. He steps aside at the force, though he’s strong enough that he does it solely for my own benefit. My tone drops slightly lower as we meander closer to Steve’s truck.

“Darcy’s gonna freak that Sam’s coming back,” I mutter, giddiness bubbling up my throat and bursting out of me in a short giggle.

“Why’s that?” Steve asks with a fond shake of his head.

“Well, we’ve just always had a crush on him,” I reply easily. My feet jump in front of his path, backing up with my eyes on him, arms swaying at my sides.

A deep, rolling growl, vibrates Steve’s chest for a moment before abruptly cutting off, choked down and silenced. A shock of dread shoots down my spine at the sound. My eyes dart over his face, scanning for signs of his sudden mood swing.

“Are you okay?” I ask , stopping his progress forward when he attempts to keep walking toward his truck, my palm flat against his chest.

He clears his throat, refusing to meet my gaze. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a crush on Sam.” He looks up through his lashes, sheepish and apologetic.

I hum, forgiveness bestowed easier than breathing, “Oh yeah, when he moved into town junior year of high school, all of us got a crush on him—me, Darcy, Bucky, Natasha, Sharon. Nat and Bucky are just the lucky ones who nabbed his heart by the time we all came home from college.” A goofy grin spreads my lips as I explain, feeling the need to justify the admission. “He’s just so charismatic, stands up for what’s right and protects the ones he loves, a genuinely great guy—who _hasn’t_ fallen in love with him?”

Steve nods slowly, face drawn in contemplation. I retake my place at his side, continuing our short trek to his truck.

The alpha continues to stew in his thoughts, and I let him. Feeling no need to fill the empty air between us, and not smelling any cause for concern in his scent.

A thought strikes me just as my feet meet the curb, his keys jingling as he pulls them from his pocket.

“You know, you must get that all the time,” I comment glancing toward the alpha.

Steve turns to me, confused. His eyes looking lost in that adorable puppy dog way of his. My lips twitch toward a smile.

“You and Sam,” I clarify with a nod directed at him, “You’re practically the same person. So you must have hundreds—if not thousands—of people in love with you.”

Steve doesn’t comment, absorbing my assessment with a quiet hum. He reaches out for the door of his truck, hand grasping the handle. At the movement, reluctance surges forward within me. I stop him with a slight tug to the back of his leather jacket. He turns around, a questioning glance as his hand drops back to his side.

“Can we walk home?” I request, not ready to be cooped up or sitting again so soon after getting out of the bar. “I mean, we can walk to my place and I’ll lend you my keys to drive my car home.”

“It’s too cold, sweetheart. I don’t want you getting sick,” he rebukes, pulling me closer toward the car.

I dig my heels in, tempted to stomp my foot. Though, Steve’s a stubborn one and I’m no match for him. Instead, I change tactics, turning to him with my most pitiful pleading expression and begging, “Please, Steve? I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He stares at me, lips pressed in a frown. The muscles in his jaw twitch, clearly disapproving of my pleas. But the longer he remains silent, the more certain I am he’ll cave.

A minute passes, then two. He drops his chin, sighing in defeat.

“Alright,” he grumbles, shrugging off his jacket and shoving it into my arms. “But you gotta wear this.”

My lips part, ready to refuse, “But—”

“No buts,” he interrupts, crossing his arms and staring me down. My instincts buckle, my chin tilting slightly in submission, my omega whining in the back of my mind. “Either you wear that, or you get in the car. Your choice.”

I huff, wrapping the worn, warm leather around my shoulders. My nose briefly brushes the collar. It smells like him. I pull it tighter around my body, taking comfort in his familiar scent. Cocking my brow at Steve, I silently ask his approval. He smirks, stepping away from his truck and pocketing his keys.

“Come on,” he chuckles, jutting his chin in the direction of my apartment.

I follow, gait easy, feeling pleased and thoroughly entertained by our antics.

We walk a block in comfortable silence, passing the bakery, the bookstore, and an empty storefront with a tarp over the windows.

My arms swing by my sides until the jacket starts to slip off. Being as unobtrusive as possible, I weave my arms through the sleeves, another indulgent whiff of Steve’s scent wafting to my nose.

“Tell me,” Steve starts when we step back on the sidewalk after crossing the next street. “Why do you go to the bar with Darcy when you so rarely enjoy yourself?”

I bark a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. When Steve looks over, I bite back further giggles, pressing my smiling lips shut.

“Loki asked the same question tonight,” I explain, amusement bright in my tone. “So, I guess I’ll give you the same answer.” My head tilts as I look over, wondering at his curiosity. “It makes Darcy happy. And I _do_ like it. Sometimes it just gets to be a bit too much.”

He hums quietly in response, tucking his hands in his pockets and sagely nodding his head.

“That’s not the only reason, is it?” he coaxes knowingly, prodding me with his elbow.

My cheeks puff with an air of indignation, but we both know he’s right. He won’t push me to tell him the real reason—he never does. But he’s curious and, if there’s anyone I can vent to, it’s Steve.

I kick out on the next step, watching my foot propel a rock down the sidewalk. “I,” the word fizzles out, but I gather my confidence and continue along this unintended path of vulnerability, “I also go because I’m always hoping that my someone will finally find me there.”

Steve’s steps slow, his head cocking to the side, giving me his full attention. “What do you mean?” he asks, a crease forming between his brows.

My hands knead together in front of my abdomen, nerves jittering under my skin. But it’s _Steve_. So, there’s nothing to fear, right?

“I just,” I pause, swallowing my bubbling anxiety, “I just always hope I’ll meet my true mate, you know? That they’ll notice me at the bar and we’ll be able to connect.”

My shoulders shrug nonchalantly while my anxiety turns into a stiff tension. Waiting for Steve’s reaction is like waiting for the guillotine blade to drop.

I pull his jacket tighter around me, hoping to block out the nerves that prick at the back of my mind, and it helps. The scent calming the sharpness as I watch expressions flit across his features, too fast to identify.

When his brows raise and his lips part, I hold up my hand, cutting him off before he can start and saving myself from his judgement at the last minute—unprepared to hear his criticism.

“And I know ‘True Mates’,” I say using air quotes, “are some bullshit trope propagated by Hollywood.” I avert my gaze, focusing on the pavement at my feet, scowling at it like it’s personally insulted my mother. “But I believe that everyone has at least one person— _their_ person, the mate that they’re destined to find.” My toes scuff the concrete, dragging my legs like I’m slogging through mud. “If true mates exist, I’ll never find mine if I never put myself out there,” I pronounce, repeating the words like a mantra.

A familiar hopelessness begins to well in my stomach, the doubt that I’ll never find my mate, but I shake my head, swiftly shoving it down and burying it deep. Part of me praying that the acrid dejection doesn’t soak into my scent for Steve to detect.

His mouth closes, his head canting in the other direction as he mulls my statement over in his mind. “Yeah, I guess I believe that, too,” he concedes quietly.

My head perks up at his agreement, not realizing that he would share my sentiments.

“Really?” I ask, flabbergasted, brows inching toward my hairline.

“Really,” he agrees with a huff of laughter. “What? Is it so hard to believe that an artist can be a romantic, too?” A teasing spark lights his eyes.

A chagrined smile flashes across my lips. “No, I suppose not.”

We turn down a side street, walking away from the town’s main road and heading toward the more residential blocks. Steve glances over at me once, twice, thrice, before asking the question that spins the cogs working in his head.

“So, how would you know who your true mate is?” His hand reaches up to the back of his neck, rubbing over his nape as he asks. Curiosity laces his tone, mulled with a hint of something I can’t pinpoint.

The corner of my lip twitches up in a smile, suddenly aware of how charming he is. It’s absolutely ludicrous that he hasn’t found his mate yet—that betas and omegas don’t line up and down the street for a chance to catch his eye.

I delay my response for a minute, gathering my thoughts, compiling the sentiments that I’ve considered for years into a concise and somewhat coherent list—and dragging out Steve’s suspense just a little bit, to watch him wait.

“I’ll be honest,” I begin, rubbing the side of my face with my knuckles. “I’ve thought about this a lot, but I only sort of know what I want. Though I’ve certainly been through plenty of failed relationships to know what I _don’t_ want.”

I peek toward his face, my teeth clacking together when I glimpse his eyes, focused in a way I’ve never seen. A small voice in the back of my head starts chanting _don’t don’t don’t_ in a quiet whisper. The thought surprises me, stunning me into silence.

The alpha patiently waits another block for a continuation of my thought, breathing deeply and scenting the air for any reason relating to my hesitance.

My teeth gnaw at my cheek, even more nervous now, but I start spewing like a party girl with one too many drinks in her stomach.

“I just-I just want someone who fits,” I state firmly, decisively. Steve’s face scrunches in befuddlement, so I continue to explain, “I want—need—someone loving and kind, who gives me the dominance I crave, and cares for me. Someone I can care and provide for in return.” I breathe through my relief, feeling free and heard as I discuss this with someone who wants to listen. Excitement thrums through my veins, enthusiasm taking over as I gush. “But more than that, I want to be able to show them every part of me, _love_ them with every part of me, and be a big, huge, weird dork, and still know that they love me— _because_ of my idiosyncrasies, not in spite of them.”

By the end, I’m beaming, weightless and almost giddy from the confession. Observing Steve, I wait for his response with bated breath.

“So,” Steve ponders, his eyes shadowed away from the streetlights, shoulders stiff, “anyone come close to fitting your bill?”

“If they did, I wouldn’t be walking home with you, you big lug.” I playfully shove at his arm, his stride remaining unbroken. Not even a little sidestep. I huff a laugh, rolling my eyes and clicking my tongue. “What about you?”

“I’ve got my eye on somebody,” he replies, cryptic once again. He sniffs, avoiding my gaze as I seek his out.

“Really?” The syllables elongate on my tongue, skepticism clear in my voice. “Cause I never see you with anyone,” I accuse, scowling at the alpha. “Have you even tried courting them?”

“Not recently,” he admits, bitten syllables softened by a reserved regret. “I used to try, but I wasn’t sure if she reciprocated my feelings. So, now, I just let it be. If we’re meant to be together, we’ll find a way. And if not?” His shoulders slump, releasing their tension. “Then I can live with that.”

“That’s kinda beautiful, Steve,” I muse, tone sympathetic and sullen, “but also really fuckin’ sad.”

“I know,” he concedes, nodding his head, forlorn.

“Who is she? Do I know her? What’s her designation?” The questions bubble out of me, an unshakable urge to know everything about this mystery woman whose existence had been inconsequential to me until this moment. Needing to remedy Steve’s state, heart breaking for him.

He sighs, a piteous, aggrieved sound rumbling in his chest. “I’m not telling you, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning toward him with a disappointed frown.

“Cause you would,” he pauses for a second, face pinching at the thought that flashes across his mind, before beginning again, “cause you would pressure her to be with me and I don’t want that.”

I scoff, flinging my arms open in a gesture of incredulity, “So you’d rather be alone?”

“I’d rather she be happy,” he replies quietly.

My mouth snaps shut, a pang shooting through my heart, the muscle clenching in my chest. My shoulder slump with my limp arms, feeling my ribs collapse in on themselves with the weight of his statement.

Silence descends over us, our steps crunching on the sidewalk as my apartment building comes into view. My brow furrows, seeing my friend’s pain for the first time, that quiet anguish that hangs around his shoulders.

My lips part on a softer question, glimpsing him in my periphery and swallowing down the lump in my throat. “Does she smell like home?” I ask, voice cracking over the words. My lips try to spread into a smile, but it’s shaky and slips away easily. “One whiff and you’re weak in the knees?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, gazing up at the moon hanging in the sky. His eyes go hazy, getting lost in his thoughts.

This woman must really be amazing, leaving him starry-eyed and devoted, even when his love may be unrequited.

A strange jealousy seeps through my body, my lips pursing in discomfort at the feeling. It lingers even when I try to clear it away from my throat. Shaking my head and trying to lighten the mood, I whistle low, pulling his attention back to the conversation and away from the clouds.

“Her scent must really be something.” The comment rolls off my tongue easily as I step to the side and shove my hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, clutching at the lining like it’s my saving grace, palms sweating.

My omega whines in the back of my mind for escape, for distance, for this unusual pain to disappear, for comfort. Steve doesn’t respond, still caught up in his own head.

“I’ve never met anyone who smells better than you,” I remark in the quiet moment, not expecting Steve to pay attention to my rambling. And it keeps spilling out, “But I’m not convinced scent is everything. The quiet matters more to me.”

“The quiet,” Steve repeats, dubious and still slightly distracted.

“Yeah,” I confirm, nodding my head slowly. “You know how my mind works, a thousand miles per hour, nonstop.” A small, self-deprecating smile tilts my lips. “But finding someone that can just make me feel safe and content, settled?” I lean forward, knees bending weakly as I let myself collapse inward a little over my statement while keeping my stride. “That’s the dream,” I admit blithely, “I’ve only ever felt that way around you.”

Steve’s brow raises at the statement, remaining silent. The conversation between us lulls once more, but the usual calm does not follow. Instead, I’m combating a small stab of anxiety that shoots through me like a bullet.

Our discussion plays through my mind again and again, quietly dissecting my admissions about my perfect mate. Something niggling in the back of my mind, a thorn in my side.

The cause of discomfort strikes like lightning, shocking me down to my toes and leaving me stunned in its wake.

My vision goes a little cloudy with the sharp realization. Stopping mid-step, I squeeze my eyes shut, mind racing, trying to make sense of the thought that has left me reeling. My heart flutters in my chest at the possibility. Affectionate warmth pools in my belly, something so much stronger than anything I’ve ever felt for anyone.

And then all at once, an overwhelming feeling of peace settles around me.

I’m in love with Steve Rogers.

An ecstatic disbelieving huff of laughter blows past my lips, joyous tears welling in my eyes. It makes sense. God, I’m an idiot.

Eyes fluttering open, they dart to Steve, halted a few paces ahead of me. His shoulders tense, sensing my omega’s initial unease on the air. His jaw twitches, muscles locked and waiting to pounce on the problem.

And I’m dunked in a pool of ice cold reality.

“Shit!” I exclaim at the ground, face falling, emotions surging through me like a tidal wave. “Motherfucking, goddamnit.” My hand runs over my hair, sinking into the tresses with distress. And the curses keep flowing past my lips, the only thing that feels under my control as the world falls away from under my feet. “Holy Mary, mother of—fuckin’ hell.”

This is not happening with my best friend—this can’t happen. Steve is _Steve_. Even if he’s my perfect match, the one person in the world who actually makes me feel loved and appreciated, who I care so deeply for it aches. He doesn’t feel the same. He just told me he has his eyes on _someone else_. God, I’m an _idiot_.

As my mind spirals down a path of panic, I hear Steve’s voice trying to calm me down. Trying to catch my attention, ask what’s wrong. It doesn’t work, I’m too lost.

And then my back slams into the brick wall of my building, Steve pinning me and blocking away any other stimulation from our environment. He breathes heavily, his chest expanding until it presses against mine. Hackles raised, he stares into my eyes, a flash of panic in his irises.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads, his hands cradling my head to turn my gaze toward his.

My pulse jumps at his touch, my eyes widening at the proximity. “Fuck,” I whisper, face crumpling in anguish. But Steve shakes me softly, jarring my attention back to him.

“Tell me. what’s. wrong,” he demands, voice dropping to a pitch near his alpha tone.

My breath hitches, knees turning to jelly as I blurt, “I’m in love with you.” My hand smacks over my lips, a second too late to stop the words from spewing from my lips.

Steve steps back, eyes squinting and head tilting as he scans over my face. His brows sit low over his eyes, draw together with his scrutiny.

My hands clutch at the rough bricks, trying to grab onto anything to keep me standing. Words bubble in my throat, sputtering excuses that trip over my tongue in blubbering syllables as I try to excuse my confessed sentiment.

“I’m so sorry, Steve, I didn’t realize—I never thought—you don’t—”

Steve steps suddenly closer again, caging me against the wall, quietly shushing me with a delicate brush of his thumb over my lips. His forehead presses to mine, his eyes closing softly. A sweet smile stretches his lips, parting slightly on a amazed exhale.

“You love me,” he whispers, almost to himself, his scent filling with something so lush and heady, my head starts to spin.

“I-I love you,” I confirm, dragging a shaky breath into my lungs.

A spark of hope blooms in my chest the longer he holds me. So close, so affectionate, so tender, his scent filled with joy and relief. When his eyes open, the blue shining and steadfast, I feel weak, my skin pebbling with goosebumps and a shiver dancing down my spine.

His right hand cradles my neck, knuckles pressing into my scent gland until my knees wobble and my breath catches in my lungs. His other cups my cheek guiding my head closer. So close that as he speaks, his lips brush mine.

“Please let me kiss you, sweetheart.”

My head bobs once and that’s all it takes.

He kisses me softly. It’s sweet, the way his lips glide over mine, almost hesitant, chaste—treating me like a beautiful, fragile treasure.

He breaks away for a moment, lips parting on a question, “Are you sure—”

But my hands grip at his flannel shirt, pulling him back toward me, aching for another taste of him. He obliges happily, lips slanting over mine, deepening the kiss with passionate need.

His left arm wraps around my waist, fingers splaying on my back and gripping onto me like a lifeline. His tongue swipes over my lower lip, licking into my mouth and swallowing the tiny mewls of pleasure that echo in my throat.

As our lungs scream for oxygen, he pulls away, his forehead resting against mine, his eyes still firmly closed.

“God, if I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up,” he begs, words dripping with desperation, voice hoarse. The fingers of his right hand wrap gently around my neck, thumb caressing my jaw.

We stand in silence for a long, lingering moment, catching our breath and basking in each other’s scent, hanging thick in the air around us.

My fingers reach up, brushing a strand of his long hair away from his forehead, mind quite blank and thoughts peacefully still.

Steve revels in the delicate touch, his long lashes brushing his cheeks.

As he opens his brilliant, blue eyes, he snatches my retreating hand, pressing his lips to my palm and running his nose over my wrist.

“I have loved you for so long,” he confesses, quietly, fervently.

Our eyes lock, his gaze burning with earnest adoration. I swallow thickly, a jolt of pain lancing at my heart.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” My chin drops in shame, thoughts stirring to berate myself over the years of wasted time.

“Hey.” He calls my name softly, fingers pulsing loosely around my neck. “Don’t apologize. Please. I have never regretted an instant of loving you.”

Meeting his gaze again, tears well in my eyes. My arms wrap around his waist, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I breathe deeply, drinking in his soothing scent and leaning on his muscles for support.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, his hand rubbing at my back in a calming gesture. “Let’s get you inside, all nice and warm in your apartment.”

I nod into his neck, drawing away and letting my fingers raise to absentmindedly scratch through the beard on his cheeks. “Will you stay with me?”

A happy, contented sound rumbles in his chest, smile brighter than the moon.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. Leave a comment or kudos—I love hearing feedback!
> 
> 💜
> 
> Also, if you want to drop by and say ‘hi’ or wanna have a chat, here’s my [Tumblr!](http://foxgloveprincess.tumblr.com/)


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